From the Pits of Hell
by anonymous1222
Summary: David Rackham is looking for a crew in order to explore the Grand Line. But there's more to this young man than meets the eye: his past shrouded in mystery and his true motives unclear, an epic adventure awaits. Mostly OCs.


Yup a story almost completely composed of OCs. I hope you enjoy.

Please review.

Two Years Ago

"Hmph, what a pathetic crew," the Marine Captain Gillman dug the heel of his boot into the temple of a dead pirate, "they couldn't even last five minutes. And to think, we could have had a shot at that Strawhat guy at Marineford." The captain sighed and walked to the ledge of the pirate ship, preparing to cross one of the ropes connected to his own.

He reached down for the rope when suddenly a howl pierced the air, freezing Gillman in his tracks.

All around him the marines under his command started shaking, "What the hell was that?" one of them said, obviously shaken.

"It's just the wind," Gillman said, pushing his own fear aside, "this crew is finished, let's get back to the base." He tightened his grip on the rope and took a deep breath, "There's nothing to be worried about," he assured himself as he grabbed the rope with his other hand, straddled the rope, and inverted himself.

However, as much as he assured himself that the noise was nothing but the wind, he couldn't stop himself from shaking. "Easy, Gillman," he said to himself, "just keep your legs crossed around the rope and put one hand in front of the other."

After what seemed like an eternity, he and most of his crew made it back to the Marine Ship. "Everyone," he shouted to the marines still on the pirate ship, "hurry over. We're departing for Marineford.

He turned and headed toward the bow, finally having overcome the fear from earlier, when suddenly he heard a deep growl from behind him.

Fear shot through the Captain as he stood petrified. "No…it can't be" he said to himself as sweat rolled down his face. He slowly turned around and his eyes shot open in horror, "Pluto…" he gasped as a black blur shot toward him.

Present Day

On Grey Island, a small island in South Blue, a small crowd had gathered in the middle of town.

"Come one, come all," a short man in a dirty black tuxedo and top hat announced to the ring of spectators, "Come and see the legend with your own eyes." The man put his right hand into his pocket. "Quick, before it is too late, you don't want to miss this. No one can rival his skill with a pistol, no one's aim is truer. He can snipe a flee out of the air from a kilometer away. I present to you the amazing, the spectacular, the most deadly man with a firearm in all of the Four Blues: True-Shot Trueman." The man in the tuxedo removed his top hat with his free hand and pointed it at a very handsome and well-built man with twelve pistols tucked into his belt.

With the exception of some confused muttering, the crowd remained silent. However, Trueman and the Tuxedo man smiled at each other and the man in the Tuxedo continued, "What's that?" he said in an exaggerated tone, "You've never heard of him? Well…" He pulled his hand out of his pocket and revealed a silver coin a centimeter in diameter. "How about a bit of a show? Watch as True-Shot shoots this out of the sky."

The crowd laughed at the two, saying things like, "Impossible," and "No one could do that."

"Hmm, 'Impossible,' you say?" The tuxedoed man asked, "Well then, how about a wager?" He stretched out his hat to the crowd and Trueman drew one of his pistols. "10 to 1 he hits the coin in the air with one bullet."

Many members of the crowd laughed at the bet.

"Come on, what's there to lose?" the man continued, "look," the man flipped the coin into the air, "you can't even see it once I toss it, can you?" He stretched out his hand and caught the coin, "How could you lose?"

Suddenly, the bets started rolling in until the tophat was filled with coins and paper currency alike. "Perfect," he man said, "now, for the show. Trueman, you ready?"

"Of course," Trueman said in a deep voice as his mouth stretched into a smile.

"Then here we go," the Tuxedoed man flipped the coin high into the air. Trueman took a second to aim and fired.

Silence, the crowd stared up into the air, unsure of the results. "What happened? Did he hit it?" One of them asked.

"Yeah, how are we supposed to tell?" another one said.

"Oh come on," a large man at the front of the crowd said, "we know he missed, there's no way he could have hit that." He walked up to the Tuxedoed Man, "So pay up." But as he reached for the top hat something bounced off his head and landed in the grass. "Impossible…" he said, dumbstruck.

The crowd stared in awe at the small, severely dented coin on the ground. "Well," the Tuxedoed man said as he and Trueman walked away from the crowd, "it was a pleasure doing business with you."

"Wait," the large man said angrily, but someone put their hand on his shoulder.

"Don't," he turned around and saw a young man with a black bandana on his head and an eyepatch over his left eye, "you saw what he could do to that coin. Imagine what he could do to your head." The young man walked out of the crowd and said to himself, "Amateurs."

That Night

Trueman was sitting in the island's bar, enjoying a large glass of sake to celebrate his newfound fame. "So Trueman," a young blonde woman came up to him, sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, "I hear you're pretty good with a gun."

"Well," he put down the empty glass, "Let's just say that handguns aren't my only specialty."

"Is that so," she leaned in and whispered into his ear, "would you like to show me?"

"I'd love to." He said as he leaned his face towards the woman's.

"Hold that thought, bud," someone said from the door.

"Huh?" Trueman turned his head toward the door and saw the young man with the eyepatch. "Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?" He turned to the blonde girl, "He's not with you is he?"

"That freak?" she said, "Hell no."

"Look, pipsqueak," Trueman said to the young man, "I don't want to hurt you," he placed a hand on one of his guns, "but you shouldn't tempt me."

"Is that so?" the young man reached for the pistol in the holster around his waist, when the bartender burst into the scene.

"Wait, Dani, please, not here. Not again?"

Dani relaxed his arm and let it fall to his side, "Fine, we'll settle this outside then."

"Fine by me," Trueman said, shooing the blonde off his lap and standing up.

"Wait, where are you going?" the blonde shouted as Trueman headed toward the exit.

"I'll be back in a minute," Trueman said and he walked outside.

Trueman followed Dani to a cliff the hung over the sea. "Now this is more like it," he said, "so what exactly is this about?"

"Simple, you're a fraud." Dani said.

"What? Did you not see what I did in town today? No one else could have made that shot."

"Just like you…" Dani said and Trueman glared at him. "I was suspicious about that stunt you pulled when I noticed the coin was only dented. A coin that thin getting hit by a lead ball would have either shattered or at least broken in two. And it wouldn't have landed so close to the toss unless you shot straight up, which you didn't."

Trueman clenched his fists, "That's a ridiculous accusation."

"Is it?" Dani said as the sound of talking and footsteps neared the cliff. "Well, how about something more concrete? I had a little talk with that friend of yours. And I must say, he held out for quite some time, but with a little…persuasion….I managed to get the truth out of him."

Trueman's eyes widened as the crowd got closer and closer to the cliff.

"He possesses the power of the Dent-Dent Devil's Fruit. A rather useless fruit that gives the ability to dent metal objects, but I must say. You two found quite a clever way to utilize it to make some money."

"So what," Trueman said as sweat began to form on his face, "we made a little money by lying, what's the big deal?"

"Oh, I don't care about that. But you see," he and Trueman reached for a gun at their hips and stared each other down, "I'm the best marksman here, and I won't let some con artist take that title from me. I've spent my entire life proving myself against any gunman that came to this island, and the title of best sharpshooter belongs to me."

'Bwehehehehehehe," Trueman laughed and Dani stared at him, confused.

"So what, you think that just because I used some trick to deceive the town, that means I can't shoot? Let's settle this and we'll see who's best."

"Fine by me, we'll go on your count."

"Perfect, we draw on three." The two hovered their hands over the grips of their pistols, "One…Two…" Trueman drew his gun and fired, but Dani didn't move an inch as the ball passed by her ear.

"Three…" Dani finished the count, drew his gun, and shot Trueman in the head. "You imbecile," he said as he stood over the body, "if you always fake your skills, you won't have them when you really need them." He sighed and holstered his gun, "What a waste of a bullet."

"Dani…" the bartender shouted from the head of the crowd, "What have you done this time."

"Oh, hey Horace, what's up?" Dani called. 

"That's it, Dani, we have had enough of you. We accepted you with open arms when your boat crashed here six years ago, and how have you repayed us? By shooting anyone who ever came to this island with a pistol. We are fortunate enough to be free of the dispute that goes on between pirates and the marines, but instead of being thankful for that peace, you have to go and shoot anyone who claims to have a better shot than you." 

"Hey, relax, old man," Dani shouted, "He was cheating you all out of money."

"Then you should have come to me." Horace said, "I may be a bartender, but I'm still the head of this town. And we are sick of your antics. It's time for you to leave," he tossed a backpack to Dani. "I had your stuff packed when you left the bar. I'm sorry for being so presumptious."

"You old fart," Dani drew his pistol, but the crowd had him outnumbered and he lowered it, accepting defeat. "Fine, you want me gone? I'm gone."

As the sun began to rise on the horizon, Dani made his way to the docks where a small boat had been prepared for him. "Stupid bartender…treating me like I'm some kid." He threw the backpack into the boat and began untying it from the dock.

"You too huh?" someone said from behind him.

"What?" He drew his pistol and aimed it at a young man with messy black hair and tattered clothes lying at the back of the boat.

"You were cast out too?"

"None of your business," Dani holstered the pistol, "Now leave." 

"I can't do that."

"Oh, and why not?"

"My boats kind of a wreck," the young man pointed to a beaten up dinghy tied to the other end of the dock.

"That's none of my business," Dani said,

"Then I'll make it your business. Join my crew."

"What, are you a pirate or something?" Dani smirked.

"Yeah, I saw how you handled that Trueman guy and I think you'd be perfect for my crew. So, what do you say?"

"Screw that. I'm not some lackey who follows other people's orders." Dani walked over to the stern and stared down at the young man. "Now get off the boat."

"Where do you plan on going? Do you even know where the next island is?" Dani didn't say a word, so the young man continued, "I'll tell you what. You let me tag along to Reef Island, and then I'll be out of your hair. Sound fair? I get you to the next island, you find me a place to look for a new crew."

"Why this Reef Island?" Dani asked, "Why not look here?"

"Because Reef Island is home to Aaron A. Aaronson, the most famous shipwright in South Blue. It's a breeding ground for pirates waiting to set sail."

Dani thought for a moment and, realizing he had no other choice, he extended his hand, "Fine, you've got a deal…"

"Rackham, David Rackham," he introduced himself, "and you are?"

"Dani Fletch."

The two shook hands and set sail north toward Reef Island.


End file.
